Destinies
by Angelwarrior1
Summary: Dean Winchester is running from destiny. Harry Potter has accepted his. This somehow results in the pair ending up in an unlikely reality. Sam is there too. Slash. DW/HP
1. Prologue

**Title: **Destinies

**Author: **Angelwarrior1

**Pairing: **Dean Winchester/Harry Potter

**Summary: **Dean Winchester is running from destiny. Harry Potter has accepted his. This somehow results in the pair ending up in an unlikely reality. Sam is there too.

**Author's Note: **I know, I know. I should devote all of my time to Secunda Fortuna and how dare I work on something else right? Well, considering I _have_ been working on Secunda Fortuna exclusively for two years straight, I was kind of feeling a little burnt out and wanted something fresh to work on. Somehow, I ended up getting sucked into Supernatural/HP crossovers, and after swearing I wasn't going to get sucked into the television series… I may have gotten sucked into the show as well. Anyhow, I noticed a few clichés for this wonderful crossing of worlds, such as Harry going to Stanford and befriending Sam, Harry becoming a hunter and meeting Bobby before the Winchester brothers, etc. Surely there has to be some other way for them to meet though, right? So then my mind went into overdrive and this spawned, and what I expected to be a one-shot, ended up expanding a bit. So, here's a taste, and you readers just go ahead and tell me if you want more, deal? This takes during Season 4 of Supernatural, episode 4x17 "It's A Terrible Life". If you haven't seen that episode yet and don't want it spoiled then don't read this, I used the transcript from the show for a some of this. As for HP, basically up until Harry died and is stuck in limbo, though I will be bending some things as I see fit, so not completely canon.

**Prologue:**

"You mean I have a choice?" Harry looked to Dumbledore in surprise.

"You've always had a choice, Harry."

Green eyes got lost in thought. He could return and finish things with Voldemort, or he could move on. Returning meant finishing the fight that's been building ever since he was a child, getting closure. It also meant dealing with the fame, all the fans who wanted a piece of him, all of his enemies who wanted a chance to kill him. There wouldn't be any peace if he went back.

Moving on, though, he'd get to be with his family. He'd get to rest and be done with all of this mess. It wouldn't matter that he hadn't killed Voldemort, because the crazy Dark Lord wouldn't be his problem anymore.

"I've decided... I'd like to move on." Harry said tentatively, as he looked up through his lashes at Dumbledore.

"I see. You understand this choice is final, you cannot change your decision." Dumbledore gazed into Harry's eyes with a searching look.

"I know. I'm just- I'm tired, Albus. So tired. I want this. Let someone else finish this fight. Voldemort is mortal now, Ron and Hermione know this. I can't be the one to always clean up everyone else's mess, hold their hands. They'll be fine. I just really feel that it's best if I move on. The life I would have in the wizarding world after Voldemort's death would be under constant scrutiny. It's bad now, but how is it suddenly going to be when I'm The-Man-Who-Defeated-Voldemort, instead of just The-Boy-Who-Lived. I'd rather not be around to find out." Harry met Dumbledore's gaze solidly and didn't waver from his stance.

This was right, he could feel it and his instincts had never led him astray.

"Very well. If you feel this is the best course of action, then I will not try to change your mind." Dumbledore gave Harry an understanding smile.

Harry knew Dumbledore understood what too many expectations could do to a person. They stood in silence for a few moments, until the sound of a distant whistle could be heard. Harry looked to the tracks and waited until a beautiful silver train finally came to a stop at the platform.

"So, this will take me to my family?" Harry questioned as Dumbledore led him with one hand on his shoulder over to the train.

"It will take you to where you belong."

"Wait, where I belong?" Why didn't he like the sound of that?

"On to the next great adventure, my boy!" Dumbledore pushed him towards the open doors of the train.

"What about you?" Harry turned to look back at Dumbledore after receiving his ticket.

"Ah, but I'm already on my next great adventure, and what a grand adventure it has been so far. I trust yours will be even more extraordinary."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked as he looked down at his odd ticket for the train.

"Sir?" Harry turned and was stunned to see Dumbledore was no longer with him.

"If you're done with your conversation, sir, I think it best we get going, eh?"

All he could do was nod as he was shuffled the rest of the way onto the train and led to the first available seat. Considering he was the only passenger, he had many choices as far as seating went. He'd barely taken his seat when the train suddenly lurched and began moving forward. Harry's eyes widened when he looked out the window and saw nothing but blurring images pass. How fast were they going?

"Excuse me, sir, but where are we going?" Harry found he had to raise his voice as the sound of wind whipping suddenly spiked throughout the train.

"To where you belong, of course!" Harry huffed in annoyance at the vague answer.

Vague answers were never good, especially not for him. Harry gave up on trying to gain anymore answers and rested his head against the glass. He wasn't sure how, but the next thing Harry Potter knew, he was drifting off to sleep.

The sound of whipping wind drowning out everything else.


	2. Chapter 1

**Title: **Destinies

**Author: **Angelwarrior1

**Pairing: **Dean Winchester/Harry Potter

**Summary: **Dean Winchester is running from destiny. Harry Potter has accepted his. This somehow results in the pair ending up in an unlikely reality. Sam is there too.

**Chapter 1:**

The blaring sound of an alarm clock pierced his ears. He felt his body jerk in shock. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He was laying down on a soft bed. Shouldn't he be somewhere else? A flash of soggy wet earth and shouts of screams, explosions, pain, and death went by his mind's eye. Something was wrong, he could feel it.

Oddly enough, it wasn't just his own body he felt. He could feel weight wrapped around his waist. Since Harry Potter was no coward, he dared to open his eyes and find out what the hell the weight was. Instead of the scream that tried to run racing out into the nicely decorated room, a strangled whimper was the only sound of distress Harry gave.

The weight was an arm, a well muscled arm. That arm was connected to a man, a well muscl- uh- well a man. Harry pried his eyes away from the gorgeous man he was currently in bed with, and what the hell? He was in bed with a gorgeous man! This kind of luck never happened to him, not without a truck load of bad to go with it!

Harry was freaking out, and not because of waking up wrapped in the arms of a man. No, he'd discovered his preference for males when he was fourteen, due to Cedric Diggory looking like- well Cedric Diggory. So waking up to a man who was definitely the type he would go for wasn't the problem. The problem was the whole waking up to a gorgeous man thing, it wasn't like Harry was a prize catch himself. Plus, there was the lack of memories on how he'd gotten into bed with the guy in the first place too.

Let it not be said the Harry Potter didn't have his priorities straight. Ron would be proud, and oh Merlin, Ron! Harry wasn't sure why he felt so sad at the thought of his red haired friend, but he felt it had something to do with why he was here.

The blaring of the alarm came back full force, like he was hearing it for the first time, instead of the drowned out muffled beast it'd been while he was having his restrained panic attack. Harry stopped breathing when the arm around his waist moved lazily and hit the alarm clock's button to silence the annoying device.

The intake of breath through nostrils and a throaty hum reached his ears, and Harry kept himself still as a nose suddenly buried itself into his neck.

"Mm, morning." A raspy low voice grumbled next to his ear, and holy hell was this man's voice incredible!

"Morning." Harry squeaked.

A chuckle that sounded like it was being run over sandpaper ruffled the hair next to his ear, and lips were suddenly kissing at his neck. Harry willed himself not to respond as this guy who was basically Harry's wet-dream-come-to-life attacked his neck for the next few minutes. He managed to hold in the sigh of relief, and disappointment, as the man finally pulled away and ended his torture.

"I'll probably be working late tonight, so if you could just leave some leftovers for me that'd be great."

"Uh, sure." Harry had yet to look the man in the face, but the man certainly didn't have a problem when his hand gently turned Harry's face towards his.

"Hey, you alright?" His eyes met Harry's for the first time and it felt so odd.

It was like he knew those eyes. They made him feel loved, and secure, safe. They felt like home. As a matter of fact, before Harry'd had his freak out upon waking, he'd felt the same way whilst wrapped up in his arms as well. He shouldn't be feeling such things, though, he didn't even know this man.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Harry held the man's searching gaze as he replied.

His answer was apparently the wrong one, as the man's lips thinned and his eyes narrowed shrewdly.

"You had nightmares again, didn't you? Of those bastard's house?"

Well, he supposed that was true, as the last thing he remembered before waking up here was dying. If that wasn't a nightmare, then what was?

"Yes." Harry admitted quietly.

"It wasn't the cupboard one again, was it?" The man asked in a soft, gruff voice as he ran a soothing hand up Harry's side.

"No, it was a different one. Uh, you should get going, you'll be late for work." Harry had no idea if that was true, but anything to stall this guy's questions.

"Okay, but I expect you to tell me about this later. You know what the therapist said about you holding all this stuff in." The man gave him a look that said Harry certainly hadn't fooled him, and how long had this guy known him to know that?

"Alright." Harry moved to get out of bed, and the man finally let him go.

He busied himself with stretching as he waited for his bed partner to go to the bathroom and show him where the hell it was. The odd look he got from the guy made him stop his impromptu stretching. Instead, he followed his bed partner to the bathroom. He really needed to find out the guy's name, as it was awkward referring to this man as, "The Man", in his head.

So lost in his thoughts, was he, that Harry hadn't even noticed what the man was doing until he heard the sound of water hitting water. He glanced up and nearly shrieked in embarrassment, as his partner stood there relieving his bladder with his head thrown back and a look of bliss on his face. Harry spun around and practically raced away.

"Uh! I'll go make us some breakfast! You just get ready for work!" Harry missed the look of complete bewilderment on the man's handsome face, as he fled the area.

Working on autopilot, Harry began putting together a quick breakfast of... well he was going to do eggs and toast, but apparently that wasn't happening. The refrigerator was stocked with the kind of food only a health nut would eat. Eventually, he found what he first thought to be a small carton of milk. He was wrong. It was a carton of egg whites.

Harry just stared at the carton in shock. They had eggs without the yolk for sale? In a container? He suddenly felt like Author Weasley when being taught about a Muggle item for the first time. It wasn't a nice feeling, and it made him despise the Dursley's just a little more for keeping him locked away from the outside world for the majority of his life.

Finally pulling himself away from his morbid thoughts, he began to put together the best breakfast he could. While cooking, he tried to figure out what his next steps would be. He needed to find out just where he was, the date, who he was in this familiar, yet different world. He _so_ needed to find out who that man was.

Finishing up, he looked through the cabinets for some kind of tea he could drink. Finding a box of Earl Grey, he set the kettle to boil water, then took a seat on a stool. From what he'd seen, the place they were staying in was a flat. A very modern one, from the look of things.

Arms wrapping around his shoulders made Harry jump and turn.

"Hey, easy! Geez, are you jumpy today. Look, I gotta run, but we _will_ be talking about this later tonight."

"Don't forget your breakfast." Harry mumbled quietly.

"You made breakfast? Why, you know I pack my own breakfast and lunch the night before. Besides, you know how I feel about you trying to cook all the time." Now the man was openly giving him that odd look again, like Harry had just grown an extra body part or something.

"I'm sorry, guess I just wanted something to do. It's ok, you don't have to eat it." Harry felt silly and kept his eyes averted to his lap.

"Hey." That same gentle, yet gruff tone that made him feel very small and fragile grabbed his attention.

"You know I love it when you cook for me. I'll just take it with me and eat it at work, okay?" He gave Harry a little chuff under the chin with his curled index finger and smiled at him.

"Alright." Harry gave a tentative smile.

Harry walked the man to the door to see him off and was surprised yet again when the man turned and looked like he was waiting for something.

"So I haven't gotten my morning kiss yet. Come on, knock me a 'lil kiss right here." The man had a nonchalant look on his face as he pointed at one of his cheeks.

Harry could feel the blood rush to his face as he leaned up on the tips of his toes to grant the man his request. The squeak that left his throat, as he was quickly wrapped in strong arms and kissed breathless, was one he would deny till the end of his days.

The kiss was fast and it was rough. The lips were very soft, however, and the tongue that was obviously used to gaining access licked its way into his. He felt the moan that managed to bubble up and into the other man's mouth. An answering groan rumbled into him.

Just as quickly as it'd started, it stopped. When Harry registered anything again, it was his hands clutching tightly to the lapels of the man's business suit. The look on the man's face said he knew exactly how Harry would react to his kisses, which annoyed him greatly. _He_ didn't even know how much that kiss would affect him, and yet this man seemed to know a lot about Harry. The man uncurled Harry's hands from his suit coat and gave him one more kiss on the forehead, before turning and leaving.

As soon as he was certain the man was gone, Harry burst into action. He ran into what looked like an office, likely the man's, and began looking through papers to find out any information he could. Apparently the man's name was Dean Smith, which he found himself liking, though the Smith part seemed a bit too plain for such an attention grabbing man. He wasn't able to find out what _his_ name was, nor anything about where he was.

Figuring the television was his best option, he went into the living room and turned it on. Finding a news station, he listened for a few minutes, then promptly fell onto the couch and stared into nothing.

It was 2009. The final battle of Hogwarts had taken place on May 2, 1998. He'd been seventeen when he died, and now he was what? Twenty-nine? Did it count when one traveled into another year? He wasn't sure. Harry darted off the couch and into the bathroom. The sight that greeted him shocked Harry so badly, he stumbled backwards and hit the wall behind him. Whenever he'd looked into the mirror back home, all he would see was the bags under his eyes, the fatigue haunting every line in his face. He'd looked half-dead to anyone really paying attention, and there weren't many who'd done that.

This person staring back at him, with the stunned wide green eyes, and slack mouth. This seemed like an entirely different person. The face appeared young and fresh, the cheeks not so hollow from lack of eating. There were no bags under his eyes. He looked good. Healthy. He touched his long, wild waves of black hair that felt more like silk. It reached down to the bottoms of his shoulder blades. It still looked a little wild, but not sticking up all over like it did whenever it was short. He pushed his bangs back, and was shocked to see that the lightening bolt scar was _still_ there! For all intents and purposes, it would seem he'd jumped into another body, but he still had the scar? Harry looked for all the other scars on his body and was stunned to see that those scars were still there as well. What did it mean? He thought he'd taken over another Harry's body, but maybe not? Maybe whatever brought him to this different world and time changed his body just enough to avoid looking suspicious. After all, when he died his body certainly wasn't in very good condition. It seemed perfectly logical that magic would help solve that problem. Deciding it was time to shower, he pulled off the clothes he'd been sleeping in and turned the shower on.

After he was finished and dressed, Harry figured it was time to see if he could still use his magic. It was obvious he didn't have his wand, but he was trained a bit in wandless. He was feeling very grateful for all the training he'd received over the years for his showdown with Voldemort, all things considered. Instead of having a nervous breakdown, like he felt he was damn well entitled to at this point, he was thinking things over logically and keeping his cool. Hermione would be so proud.

Seating himself at the kitchen table, Harry quickly began testing himself.

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The ringing of a phone broke Harry from the remarkable progress he'd made in testing his magic. It would seem that he was able to perform perfectly fine without his wand, he wasn't even tired like he usually had been whenever he would perform the simplest of spells wandlessly.

Getting up, Harry did a mad search for the phone as it kept ringing.

"Hello?" Harry was breathless by the time he'd located it.

"Harry? You okay? You sound out of breath." The man- Dean- sounded worried, which was apparently his default mode when it came to Harry.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Just had to run for the phone. What's up?"

"Just wanted to let you know that I'll be staying later than I intended. Got some more work to do before I can call it a night."

"Okay. Uh, do you still want me to save you some dinner then?"

"Yeah, that'd be great."

"Alright, anything in particular you feel like eating?" Harry hoped Dean would tell him, because he seriously had no idea what to make for the guy.

"Anything you decide to make is good. I'll see 'ya later."

"Right." Harry ended the call as Dean did the same.

So, dinner. What the hell did an obvious health nut find acceptable to eat?

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Thanks for the reviews everyone! I hope you enjoy this story.


	3. Chapter 2

**Title: **Destinies

**Author: **Angelwarrior1

**Pairing: **Dean Winchester/Harry Potter

**Summary: **Dean Winchester is running from destiny. Harry Potter has accepted his. This somehow results in the pair ending up in an unlikely reality. Sam is there too.

**Chapter 2:**

Noise woke him immediately, and he rose cautiously. Hearing the sound of voices, Harry crept to the bedroom door and opened it quietly. Recognizing the voice of Dean, Harry walked out into the living room as silently as possible and listened.

"-How the hell did you know that ghosts are scared of wrenches?" A voice Harry didn't know asked.

"Crazy, right? And nice job kicking that door too. That was very Jet Li. What are you, like a black belt or something?"

The guy had kicked a door in? Why the hell would he need to? And what was that about a ghost being scared of wrenches?

"No. I have no clue how I did that. It's like... we've done this before."

"What do you mean before? Like Shirley MacLaine before?"

"No. I-I just can't shake this feeling like I don't belong here. You know? Like I should do something more than sit in a cubicle."

"I think most people who work in a cubicle feel that same way." Dean sounded a tad amused, and Harry felt his own lips trying to smile just a bit.

"No. Well, look, it's more than that. Like, I don't like my job. I don't like this town. I don't even like my own last name. I don't know how else to explain it, except that... it feels..."

"Wrong." Harry's voice seemed to bubble up and away from his throat without his consent.

Two heads whipped around to stare at him in shock.

"Harry, baby, I thought you were sleeping." Dean came over and gave Harry a quick peck on his forehead.

"I'm a very light sleeper."

"Since when? I mean, I know you're not a heavy sleeper, but a light one?" Dean was giving that look Harry was coming to know as his disbelieving one.

"Since always. Who is that? And what were you saying about things being wrong?" Harry looked to the extremely tall man, who made Harry feel like an ant in comparison.

"I'm Sam, Sam Wesson, and you are?"

"This is my fiancé, Harry Evans." Harry's head whipped around so fast, he was surprised it didn't fly off.

"What?" He couldn't help but whisper in his shock.

"Harry, you alright? You don't look so good."

"What did you mean about things being wrong?" Harry shook his head to get his thoughts back in order.

If this guy knew something, then he needed to follow this lead like no one's business.

"Hey, maybe you should take a seat or something. You're looking a little pale."

"Just tell me what you meant."

"Why does it matter?"

"Because I don't know how the bloody hell I got here!" Harry bellowed, his rage at the situation finally spilling out.

"What? Harry, what do you mean you don't know how you got here?" Dean whispered in shock.

"My name is Harry James Potter, and the last thing I remember is dying in battle on May 2, 1998."

"Dying?" Harry turned to look at Dean as he choked out that question like it'd physically hurt him.

"I died and went to this bright white place, it looked like the train station I used for traveling to my boarding school. I was given a choice, I could either return and finish the fight I'd just died in, or move on. I thought moving on meant being with my parents and godfather, but next thing I know I'm waking up in a strange bed with a man I've never seen before."

"So you're in the wrong place too. You actually remember this, or was it through dreams that you know this?" Sam asked excitedly.

Dean didn't say anything, he just looked, well devastated.

"No, I actually remember. No dreams. I was there and now I'm here. "

"So, we've got you just appearing here out who knows where, me having weird dreams about killing monsters and ghosts, and something weird going on at the building Dean and I work at. We should probably try to figure out what's killing people at our job first. So, what do we do now?" Sam claps his hands together and looks to Dean and Harry for a clue.

"We do what I do best, Sammy. Research." Harry jerked in surprise at that response, and looked over at Dean.

Apparently he'd pulled himself together after that little bombshell Harry'd dropped.

"Okay. Did you just call me Sammy?" Harry found himself wanting to laugh at the twisted up face Sam was making.

It looked like he'd bitten into something sour.

"Did I?"

"I think you did. Yeah. Don't." Harry grinned at the interaction between the two.

"Sorry." Dean didn't really appear to be sorry, though.

Dean sat at his laptop at one corner desk and Sam used another at a table in Dean's office. Harry just tried not to intrude too much. Dean hadn't even looked at him since Harry's confession. Harry knew he shouldn't, but he felt oddly hurt by the shunning. It wasn't like he'd asked to just drop in and take Harry Evans' place, or whatever it was that had actually happened. He supposed it was best this way. He would just give Dean his space for the time being.

"Oh, jackpot." Harry was pulled from his musings as Dean uttered those words.

"What you got?" Sam got up from his laptop and moved to watch Dean's over his shoulder.

Harry moved next to Sam and watched as well.

"I just found the best site ever. Real, actual ghost hunters. These guys are genius. Check it out."

"Instructional videos. Okay." Sam was peering at the screen with more than just skepticism on his face.

Harry found himself a bit underwhelmed with Dean's find as well, but waited.

Dean pulled up a video after checking around on the Ghostfacers website.

We know why you're watching. A couple of guys wearing white lab coats appeared on the screen and Harry felt his eyebrow pop up of its own accord.

You've got a problem.

A ghost-related problem. A ghost- it's like a ghost-adjacent pr- it's like a problem that's-

Yeah. Harry could see how they were going to help.

Whatever. You've come to the right place. The only decent place, really, because the Ghostfacers know how to solve it.

Period.

Watch and learn.

See, the first step in any supernatural fight:

Figure out what you're up against. Harry rolled his eyes as the duo on screen stopped to talk at the same time.

Frankly the only people Harry knew who did that were the twins, and they were twins. What was the excuse for these bloody morons? Harry missed the look shared by the others, so he jumped a bit when Dean's voice suddenly cut through the air.

"That's him. That's the ghost." Dean was looking at a picture of the man on Sam's laptop.

"P.T. Sandover. Died 1916. Devoted his life to his work. No wife, no kids." Sam went over and read off his laptop.

He read through the article text next to the picture.

"Used to say he was the company. His very blood pumped through the building."

"Wow, okay. So slight workaholic. Maybe he's still here, you know, watching over the company, even killing for it."

"Plus, this isn't the first time people started killing themselves in the building. 1929."

"But lots of guys jumped off high rises that year."

"How many companies had seventeen suicides?"

"Phew. Okay, so P.T. Sandover, protector of the company. His ghost wakes up and becomes active during times of grave economic distress."

"Well, the worst time since the Great Depression-"

"Is now. Yeah, now sucks. My portfolio's in the sewer. I don't even wanna talk about it."

Harry felt like he was watching a tennis match with these two. They just kept picking up where the other left off. It was like they were in perfect sync with one another, and he suddenly felt like an outsider who really shouldn't be there. Was this how others felt when watching him with Ron and 'Mione?

"So Sandover's helping the bottom line-"

"By zapping some model employees."

"Yeah. I mean, Ian and Paul. It was like he turned them into different people."

"Perfect worker bees, exactly. So devoted to the company that they would commit hara-kiri if they failed it."

"What's hara-kiri?" Harry blurted out before his brain even registered his mouth forming the words.

The pair started, apparently Harry'd been quiet for far too long, as they'd actually forgotten about him being with them. It just made him feel shittier.

"Er, it's a ritual suicide practiced by the Japanese samurai. It involved them cutting open their own stomachs."

"Oh." Harry uttered more to himself than the other two.

Sam sent a sympathetic look Harry's way that he missed completely.

"Uh, one more interesting fact. The building wasn't always that high. Used to be fourteen floors. And the room where the ghost attacked, fourteen forty-four? Once upon a time, that was the old man's office."

The pair continued watching some more Ghostfacer videos, which Harry just listened to from a distance. He didn't really feel welcome in this little mission of theirs. Plus, he thought Ed Zeddmore and Harry Spangler were more than a bit ridiculous. How'd Sam and Dean even know these guys were for real? They could just be making crap up! Sure, Harry was no expert himself, having only met a few ghosts at Hogwarts, but were the rules in this world really so different that salt would hurt a ghost?

-A bad trip for ghosts. Next up, iron.

"That's why the wrench worked."

Pure power in your hand.

Dissipates ghost instantly.

Next little trick. We learned from those useless douchebags- Somehow, Harry got the feeling it was the other way around.

That we hate.

The Winchesters.

Gun.

Shotgun shell. Pack it up with fresh rock salt.

Very effective.

Very effective.

Winchesters still suck ass though.

Affirmative. Suckage major.

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Harry watched silently as Dean packed two iron pokers into a duffel bag that held a salt shaker and other unidentifiable items.

"Where do we even get a gun?" Dean wondered aloud as Sam came up behind him.

"Gun store?"

"Isn't there a waiting period?"

"I think so."

"How in the hell-"

"I don't know. Seems pretty impossible, honestly."

Okay, if this is how other people felt around him and the other members of the Golden Trio, no wonder the others in the school looked like they wanted to murder them sometimes. It sucked being left out.

"Right." Dean replied to Sam, still ignoring Harry.

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Somehow, they ended up watching more of the Ghostfacers, whom of which Harry still felt were a pair of morons.

The aforementioned super-annoying Winchester douchenozzles also taught us this one other thing. You have to burn the remains.

Okay, this next part gets a little gross. Sometimes... you might have to dig up the body. Sorry. Dean blinked in, well Harry wasn't sure what that expression meant yet, as he'd only known the man since that morning.

It's illegal in some states.

All states. Harry Spangler muttered on the screen.

Possibly all states.

"Sandover was cremated." Sam stated in frustration, as he stared at his laptop.

"What? So what do we do now?" Dean came and leaned over Sam's shoulder to see the screen as well.

Now, if the deceased has been cremated-

Don't panic.

Don't panic.

Harry just rolled his eyes at the two on the screen, but kept quiet.

Just gotta look for some remains.

A hair in a locket, maybe. Fingernails. Baby teeth.

Milk teeth.

Genetic material. You know what we're talking about.

Go find it.

Fight well, young lions.

Godspeed.

Thank Merlin.

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So apparently some people can't read and I've gotten A BUNCH of reviews asking why Dean and Sam aren't hunters, why Harry's suddenly in a world where Dean has fake memories of him, etc. I'll only write this out once more. Watch episode 4x17, "It's A Terrible Life". Seriously, if you still don't get that concept and send reviews asking stupid questions all I'll do is get a good laugh out of it. I'll also occasionally facepalm.

-Angelwarrior1


	4. Chapter 3

**Title: **Destinies

**Author: **Angelwarrior1

**Pairing: **Dean Winchester/Harry Potter

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Supernatural or Harry Potter. I make no profit from writing this.

**Summary: **Dean Winchester is running from destiny. Harry Potter has accepted his. This somehow results in the pair ending up in an unlikely reality. Sam is there too.

**Chapter 3:**

Sam had bid him a polite farewell, then went outside to wait for Dean. Dean on the other hand, still wouldn't look at him, and frankly Harry was just fed up at that point.

"Dean. I'm sorry. I- This morning, when I woke up. I had no idea what was going on, it was all so confusing. I didn't say anything to you and I'm sorry, but I wasn't sure about what I could possibly say. It all sounded so insane. I never asked for this to happen. I- If you want me to leave after this whole mess with the ghost is straightened out, then I'll understand. Just please. Don't hate me for taking the other's Harry's place. I didn't mean to." Harry hated how desperate he began to sound towards the end of his speech.

Harry was looking down at this point, so he missed when Dean lifted his head and stared at him during his explanation. Harry fidgeted, twisting the bottom of his shirt, as he always did when he was nervous about something. He finally dared to look up through his unruly wisps of waves, and almost flinched back from the intense gaze Dean was shooting at him. It was a searching look, like Dean was trying to find something within Harry. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Dean spoke.

"It really is you, isn't it. I mean you act just like my Harry, and yet you're still different. You didn't seem surprised this morning or confused when I mentioned the Dursleys. Did you live with them in your own world too?" Dean just stared at Harry with what appeared to be desperation.

As if Harry's answer would mean the end of Dean's world. Just how much did Harry Evans mean to this man?

"Yes. I've lived with them since I was just a baby, after my parents died. I've noticed some... Well, I've noticed some scars on this Harry's body that match my own. I take it they're from the Dursley's as well?"

It was if that answer was some kind of confirmation to Dean, as he finally relaxed in Harry's presence for the first time since finding out about Harry not being Dean's fiance.

"Harry, loo-" The sound of knocking cut Dean off before he could say anything more.

"Sorry if I'm interrupting, but we'd better leave. We don't have a whole lot of time." Sam's muffled voice sounded through the closed door.

"We'll talk about this when I get back, okay. Just... don't leave." Dean sent him a pleading look, before opening the door and walking out.

All things considered, Harry supposed that was better than Dean's constant silence. Now he only felt slightly guilty for putting those tracking charms on the pair. Did they really think he was leaving a pair of novices to ghost hunting alone?

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Harry decided it best if he waited a little bit before following, but once he left the flat, he apparated straight into the building, not too far from the tracker he'd left on Sam. By the time he'd reached where Sam's tracker had been, the man had already moved on, and left Harry wishing he picked another point to follow Sam from. There was a man on the floor... missing the top half of his torso. He knew he hated elevators for a reason.

Harry moved on and continued following Sam's tracker. Eventually, he came upon the sound of voices and rounded the corner... with Dean's body flying right into the wall next to him. Harry was about to go to the downed man to help, but whipped his head around when he heard the slam of another body hitting the wall, which turned out to be Sam. The ghost of Sandover approached Sam, with a hand sparking in energy. Sam flung some salt out and hit the ghost, making him dissipate, shocking Harry. Who knew those morons from the videos were right, eh?

Harry's attention was brought back to Dean, who was getting up.

"Oh nice." Dean commented, just as Sandover appeared behind him.

Harry, going purely on instinct, summoned the iron poker by Sam and flung it with a wave of his hand straight through Sandover. Dean and Sam turned in shock to stare at him for a moment.

"Harry?! What the hell was that?!" Dean asked with wide eyes.

"No time! Finish it!" Harry shouted, causing Sam to get up and get the other poker.

Dean picked up the other one and moved to Sam just as Sandover appeared between the pair. They simultaneously hit him with the pokers, making him dissipate again. The ghost popped up once more behind Dean, who turned to get him, then behind Sam, who did the same. While this odd game was happening between the pair of men and the ghost, Harry was looking around for some clue of what he was supposed to be destroying.

Apparently the ghost grew tired of the game during Harry's mad search, as he suddenly threw the pair into opposite walls. Sandover approached Dean with his sparking hands and just as he was about to reach him, the ghost bursts into flames. Dean blinked after a few seconds of silence, then looked to Sam, who appeared a bit dazed against the opposite wall, then Harry. Sam looked to Harry too, and saw the burnt remains of the gloves at his feet.

"But how? The lighter is still over there. The salt was too for that matter." Sam asked in confusion.

"Summoned the salt. Created a flame. I'm uh, kind of a wizard." Harry shrugged and explained nervously to the pair.

"A wizard?! Like a wand waving, broom riding, cauldren boiling type?" Dean questioned with slight skepticism in his voice and that look on his face Harry had been seeing all morning.

"Yes, though I don't really need a wand to do magic anymore. My broom is, unfortunately, back in my world. As far as cauldren's go; well I was never any good at making potions." Harry's explanation caused Sam to grin, and Dean gave a small smirk.

"That whole thing was amazing." Sam exclaimed with enthusiam.

"Right? Right?" Harry felt his lips curl into a smile at how much Dean sounded like an eager child.

The trio made their way to Dean's office, where Dean pulled a first-aid kit out of his desk.

"Man, I gotta tell you, I've never had so much fun in my life." Harry nearly snorted at Dean's proclamation.

Yeah, nearly dying was always fun. Merlin, was this how Hermione felt around Ron and him? If so, no wonder the poor girl was always looking so stressed. Just made Harry miss the two of them more. He'd never get to see them again. He hoped they were alright.

"Me neither." Sam agreed.

"Was a hell of a workout too, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, and did you see what Harry did with the poker? How he flung it at Sandover with just a wave of his hand? And you said you're a wizard? Are there more like you in your world, Harry?" Sam turned to Harry, who jolted back into reality.

"Yes, an entire world really, we just exist away from non-magical humans, or Muggles, as we refer to them."

"You said you were in a war?" Harry was surprised, as it was Dean who'd asked this question, rather than Sam.

Harry sighed then, and launched into the explanation about his world, Voldemort, his parent's death, the prophecy and his role in the wizarding world, and finally the Final Battle. He wasn't able to tell every little detail, as there was just so much to the story, but it was a good enough explanation for the pair of men. Sam seemed eager to swallow any little tidbit of information Harry could give him about the wizarding world and magic. Harry found himself charmed by the young man who reminded him more and more of Hermione.

Eventually, Sam exhausted his line of questioning and the trio just sat in silence for a little while.

"We should keep doing this." Sam interrupted the silence of the room and caused Harry to jump a bit.

Dean bumped his shoulder into Harry's, who turned to look at Dean in surprise of the action. Dean just gave him a little quirk of his lips in answer. Harry smiled shyly in return, before turning back to Sam.

"I know. " Dean agreed, unthinkingly, while still giving more of his attention to Harry.

"I mean it. There's gotta be other ghosts out there. We could help a lot of people." Sam said seriously.

"Right, we'd be like the Ghostfacers." Dean teased.

Harry couldn't stop the giggle that exited his throat and promptly slapped a hand over his mouth. He glanced at Dean out of the corner of his eye and caught the man smiling softly at him for the first time since that morning, since finding out who Harry really was. Harry couldn't decide if he should be embarrassed for being such a spaz or being ridiculously happy that Dean was looking like that at him once more. He decided on a mix of both doing rather well.

"No, really. I mean, for real." Sam continued, getting a bit frustrated at not being taken seriously.

"What? Like, quit our jobs and hit the road?" Dean finally turned an incredulous face towards Sam.

"Exactly."

"How would we live?"

"Uh..."

"You gotta be kidding me. How would we get by? With stolen credit cards? Huh? Eating diner food drenched in saturated fats? Sharing a crap motel every night?" Harry snorted at that last bit about the food.

Personally he thought Dean would flip if anyone tried feeding him anything dripping in grease. Of course, he was basing his assumption purely on the contents of the man's refrigerator, but still, Harry just had a feeling about it. The man seemed a bit OCD, he'd found the medicine cabinet arranged in alphabetical order. Obsessing about his health didn't seem too far off in Harry's mind.

"And what about Harry, huh? Just because he isn't _my_ Harry, doesn't mean I can just abandon him. Especially since he's in a completely different world than his own."

"That's all just details, and I wouldn't mind Harry coming with us. I mean, you saw how he handled himself with Sandover. He obviously knows how to take care of himself. His abilities could be useful." Sam opposed.

"Oh no, I'm not letting you bring Harry with us just so we could use him for his magic. As far as I'm concerned, Harry won't be facing anymore ghosts, or whatever the hell else you want us fighting."

"Dean. I am a big boy, you know." Harry rolled his eyes at Dean's words.

Honestly, he was a freaking solidier at this point, and Dean was worrying about his safety now? Didn't he listen to _any_ of Harry's story?

"I know, Harry. Anyway, details are everything. You don't wanna go fighting ghosts without any health insurance."

"All right. Um. Confession." Sam looked a bit sheepish.

"What?" Dean looked a more than a bit annoyed at that point.

"Remember those dreams I told you about with the ghosts?"

"Yeah?" Dean agreed, while Harry was just confused at this point.

Sam had dreamt about ghosts?

"I was fighting them."

"Okay." Dean said, obviously waiting for something more revelationally profound.

"With you. We were these, like, hunters, and we were friends. More like brothers, really. I mean, what if that's who we really are? You saw us back there, working together. The ghost was scrambling brains. What if it scrambled ours?"

"That's insane."

"I hate to help with the insanity, but I think Sam may be onto something. Not about the ghost brain scrambling bit, because that just sounds silly, Sam. I think we may be living in an alternate world, though. I mean, obviously I am, but what about Sam's dreams? They focused specifically on the two of you working together as a team, and while watching the two of you earlier, you two were eerily in sync. It reminded me of how I am- _was_- with my two best friends, we practically shared one brain, what with our just knowing what the other was thinking the majority of the time. You being brothers may not be that far fetched."

"No. I'm Dean Smith, okay? Director of Sales and Marketing. I went to Stanford. My father's name is Bob, my mother's name is Ellen, and my sister's name is Jo. I'm sorry, but how do you know that your memories aren't the fake ones."

"Because I can remember little details from that world that I have no clue about here. The political climate, important details about my friends and other things. I don't have the first clue about anything here." Harry argued his case, he knew his world was real, this one was the wrong one, he just felt it.

"When was the last time you talked to your family, Dean? To any of them?" Sam continued.

"Okay, you're upset. You're both upset, confused-"

"Yeah, 'cause I only moved here 'cause I just broke up with my fiancee, Madison. But I called her number and I got a damn animal hospital."

"Okay. What are you saying? Are you trying to say that my family isn't real? Huh? That we've been injected with fake memories? Come on, if that were true, Harry would have a fake set too. How come he hasn't been implanted with a set of the Malibu Barbie dream life memories?"

"Maybe he's immune, because of his magic?" Sam theorized, then turned to Harry, as did Dean.

"Er, well, my enemies have tried invading my mind before, but it never really lasted long. I was able to throw them out." Harry shrunk in a bit on himself, he always hated having so much attention placed on him over his unique abilities.

Sam threw Dean a smug look, who glared back at Sam.

"All I know is, I got this feeling in my gut. And I know. I know that deep down, you gotta be feeling it too. We're supposed to be something else. You're not just some corporate douchebag. This isn't you. I know you." Sam finished his case as he got up.

"Know me? You don't know me, pal. You should go."

Sam did.

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Thanks for all the great reviews everyone! Glad to know so many readers are enjoying this fic.


	5. Chapter 4

**Title: **Destinies

**Author: **Angelwarrior1

**Pairing: **Dean Winchester/Harry Potter

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Supernatural or Harry Potter. I make no profit from writing this.

**Summary: **Dean Winchester is running from destiny. Harry Potter has accepted his. This somehow results in the pair ending up in an unlikely reality. Sam is there too.

**Chapter 4:**

Harry couldn't help but fidget the whole back back to the flat. Dean didn't say anything, just drove in silence. Finally, they arrived and Harry all but jumped out of the car. The silence continued all the way until they made it inside.

"Why do you think this world isn't right? Do you hate it so much, being here with me? Hell, you told me you were in a war in your world. Do you really prefer that, to being here, with me?" Dean turned and stared at Harry.

"No! Merlin! I don't know! I'm glad to be alive, don't get me wrong. I thought I was going to die, and I'd managed to spend the year knowing this trying to come to terms with it. And then I finally did, only to find I'd been given a second chance, and I find out of all of the places I could have woken up in, it was here. I woke up here, with you. I am glad I got to meet you Dean. I _like_ you. A lot. But I have friends that I left behind too, in my world. I miss them so much. I don't even know if they're alive. I don't know if Voldemort is even dead! Merlin, what if I made the wrong choice?! It felt right, but what if that was my own selfishness getting in the way?!" Harry was pacing back and forth across the room, pulling his inky tresses roughly by the time his rant was over.

Dean approached him and pulled his hand away from his hair.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have questioned your memories like that. I just have a hard time believing everything I know being fake. I mean, if I don't really have a family, then who do I have? I don't even have you, and I was happy with Harry. He was... but he wasn't even real, was he? You though, you're real. You act so much like him, he would've freaked out the same way, you know? You have the same ticks too, like that shirt thing you always do. Shit this is confusing. I feel like I'm taking advantage, but am I really? You're real and he isn't, so why do I know you so well? Like you fit with me?" Dean cupped Harry's face in his hand, his other hand still holding one of Harry's.

"You feel it too? I felt something with you this morning. It was odd, like I knew you wouldn't hurt me, even though you were a complete stranger."

"Right? I feel like you and me, we're supposed to be together. Weird. Whadduya say we give this a shot? Start fresh. Dating. I can take the spare bedroom for a while, we can find out about each other. For real this time." Dean's thumb stroked over Harry's cheek, making him close his eyes in contentment.

"I'd like that." Harry looked up and smiled at Dean.

Dean smiled back softly and leaned down to give Harry a chaste kiss on the lips.

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Another day at the office. He swore he used to love this. Now though, after hunting an actual ghost with Sam and seeing what Harry could do, it just wasn't the same. He sighed and kept typing at his computer. A knock on the door stopped him. It was Adler.

"Got a minute?" Adler peeked in, all fakes smiles that set Dean's teeth on edge.

"Sure, of course."

Adler came in and shut the door.

"How are you feeling, Dean?"

"Uh, great." Dean lied.

Sure, he was happy about how his situation with Harry was going, but the fake memories thing just blowed.

"You look a little tired. Been working hard, I gather."

"Yeah."

"Ah, don't be modest. I hear everything. And I'm pleased with what I'm hearing." Adler sat down in front of Dean's desk.

"That's why it's important to me that you're happy." Adler continued.

Adler pulled out a pen, grabbed a piece of notepaper, and wrote down a five-digit number.

"How's that for a bonus?"

"That's very generous." Dean spoke as he looked at the paper.

"Purely selfish. Wanna make sure you're not going anywhere."

"Wow. Are you sure?"

"Positive. You are Sandover material, son. Real go-getter. Carving your own way."

"Well, thanks. I try."

"I see big things in your future. Maybe even senior VP, Eastern Great Lakes Division. Don't get me wrong, you'll have to work for it. Seven days a week, lunch at your desk, but in eight to ten short years, that could be you." Somehow that whole futuristic scenario left a heavy feeling in his stomach that he found terrible.

Dean took off his headset, and placed it on the desk.

"Well, uh, thank you. Thank you, sir. It's, um... but..." He felt like he was suffocating in the room, like his tie was a noose around his neck that he desperately wanted to rip off.

He passed the paper back. Was he really going to do this? What about Harry? He was the bread winner. Even his fake memory Harry didn't have a job. The Dursley's had done a major number on his Harry's head, so when he'd met him, Harry was a scared wreck. Would never look anybody in the eyes, flinched at any movements that were too fast or if he was touched. It had taken so long to break Harry out of those habits. Dean found himself wondering if the real Harry he'd just met had gone through any of that. He wanted to take care of Harry, always had. Now he was actually going to quit, and what? Pursue Sam's crazy idea?

"I am giving my notice." Dean spoke reluctantly.

"This is a joke. You're kidding me, right?" Adlers' fake smile slowly slipped from his face at Dean's news.

"No. I've- I recently- _very_ recently realized that I have some other work I have to do. It's, uh, very important to me."

"Other work? Another company?" Adler looked alarmed at his assumption.

"No, I- it's hard to explain. Um. It's just that this- this is- it's just- it's not who I'm supposed to be." He nearly grimaced as he qouted Sam.

Dean waited for Adler's reaction, and found himself surprised, not to mention a little suspicsious, when Adler grinned.

"What?" Dean eyed the man cautiously.

"Dean, Dean, Dean. Finally." Finally?

Adler stood suddenly and pressed two fingers to Dean's forehead. It felt different. It was like the colors in the room just dimmed. Dean looked around the office, then at himself in confusion.

"The hell? Why am I wearing a tie? My God, am I hungry." He fingered his tie with distaste and rubbed his stomach.

He looked up when Adler laughed.

"Welcome back." Dean stood.

"Wait. Did I- did I just get touched by- you're an angel, aren't you?"

"I'm Zachariah." Dean sent the angel an unimpressed look.

"Oh, great. That's all I need is another one of you guys." Dean paced behind his desk a bit.

"I'm hardly another one, Dean. I'm Castiel's superior. Believe me, I had no interest in popping down here into one of these smelly things." Zachariah waved his hand at his body with a look of disgust on his face.

"But after the unfortunate situation with Uriel, I felt it necessary to pay a visit. Get my ducks in a row."

"I am not one of your ducks." Dean said angrily.

"Starting with your attitude." Where the angel was all smiles before as Adler, he was now cold business as Zachariah.

"Oh, so, what? This was all some sort of lesson? Is that what you're telling me? Wow. Very creative."

"You should see my decoupage."

"Gross. No thank you. So, what? I'm just hallucinating all this? Is that it?" Dean looked a little disgusted at Zachariah's retort.

"Not at all. Real place, real haunting. Just plunked you in the middle without the benefit of your memories."

"Just to shake things up? Hm? So you guys can have fun watching us run around like ass clowns in monkey suits?" He nearly asked if the bastard had dropped Harry into the middle of things to confuse the shit out of him, but something held him back from speaking about Harry.

Maybe it was just gut instinct, or maybe his time as Dean Smith instilled that desire to protect the magic user, and hello magic user, he should be trying to gank the wizard, not protect him. When he thought back to Harry though, Harry was too much of a little sweetheart to really be dangerous, right? Or maybe Harry hadn't even been real anyhow, and the bastard in front of him was just fucking with him big time. He finally tuned back into Zachariah's grand speech about being the big hero and shit.

"To prove to you that the path you're on is truly in your blood. You're a hunter. Not because your dad made you, not because God called you back from hell, but because it is what you are. And you love it. You find your way to it in the dark every single time and you're miserable without it. Dean, let's be real here. You're good at this. You'll be successful. You will stop it."

"Stop what? The apocalypse, huh? Lucifer? What? Be specific, man."

"You'll do everything you're destined to do. All of it. But I know, I know. You're not strong enough. You're scared. You got daddy issues. You can't do it. Right?"

"Angel or not, I will stab you in the face."

"All I'm saying is it's how you look at it. Most folks live and die without moving more than the dirt it takes to bury them. You get to change things."

Dean turned away.

"Save people, maybe even the world. All the while you drive a classic car and fornicate with women. This isn't a curse. It's a gift. So for God's sakes, Dean quit whining about it. Look around. There are plently of fates worse than yours. So are you with me? You wanna go steam yourself another latte? Or are you ready to stand up and be who you really are?"

Okay, so maybe the bastard had a point. He did miss his baby. Then there was Sammy, Dean couldn't just leave the Sasquatch alone, he was liable to get himself killed. He always had put Sammy first, even before his own happiness. Harry.

'Harry, if you are real, I'm sorry.'

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Thanks for all the great reviews on this story so far. We'll be moving into Season 5 territory in the next chapter, so if you haven't seen that season yet, then you'll want to do that if you hate spoilers.


	6. Chapter 5

**Title: **Destinies

**Author: **Angelwarrior1

**Pairing: **Dean Winchester/Harry Potter

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Supernatural or Harry Potter. I make no profit from writing this.

**Summary: **Dean Winchester is running from destiny. Harry Potter has accepted his. This somehow results in the pair ending up in an unlikely reality. Sam is there too.

**Chapter 5:**

Harry woke up slowly, eyebrows coming together in a frown. It was morning already? Opening his eyes, Harry sat up in the bed and rubbed the sleep from his face. Something felt off. He immediately knew why when he finally looked around. He was in a motel room.

After having a major freak-out over suddenly being in a motel room instead of the flat he'd fallen asleep in, Harry found out he was in a motel room in Georgia. It was confusing for Harry, to suddenly be all alone in a strange place he didn't know. Fortunately, Harry Potter was used to odd happenings, so he'd set out with the few belongings he had.

Apparently, the pouch Hermione had given him as a gift had gone with him to the flat he'd woken up in, he just hadn't been wearing it. It had been in the drawer by the bed, how it had ended up there Harry hadn't known, but he figured magic was involved and decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Instead, he'd donned the pouch and hadn't taken it off since. It was a good thing he'd done so, he would've mourned its loss if he'd woken up without it in that motel room.

The pouch didn't have much that would be helpful in the situation Harry found himself in, the broken mirror from Sirius, the broken pieces of his wand, his father's invisibility cloak, a few books of Hermione's she had been too paranoid over to leave just anywhere, and some galleons. If he was lucky, maybe he could sell the galleons for some money. Surely someone would be interested in purchasing the odd coins.

Once he secured some money, he would worry about finding out where he was, and try to figure out what the bloody hell had happened.

He hoped Dean and Sam were okay, if they were real.

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Dean left the bar, ignoring the woman at the bar who'd been sending him heated looks all night. Everything was shit, had been for a while now. Things had just gone right down hill; all the seals had been broken, Lucifer had been set free, he was Michael's vessel, and Sam... Sam was somewhere else. He had grown tired of watching over Sam all the time, watching him make mistakes. Sam hadn't listened to him, instead he'd chosen to listen to a demon.

So, he'd agreed with Sam, told him to leave. Now he was alone. Sometimes, he wondered what would've happened if he'd chosen to stay in that false world Zachariah had created. He wouldn't be dealing with this mess, if he had. Wouldn't have had to watch Sam turn to a demon over him, Sam's older brother. He would've been with Harry...

Dean shook his head, trying to dislodge that train of thought before it took off. It was no use. Hell, he couldn't even hook up with anyone, and it wasn't like he hadn't tried. It was easy to sweet talk a woman into doing anything he wanted, but whenever he got to actually doing anything his heart just wasn't in it. Too many curves where there should have been the lean softness of faint muscles that weren't fully developed, hair not dark enough or wild and untamed looking, eyes no where near as green.

It wasn't fair. That bastard Zachariah had probably just created Harry to fuck with Dean's head. He was known as a ladies' man, after all, why not mess around and make him doubt himself. Only, Dean wasn't so sure about Zachariah having anything to do with Harry.

The angel hadn't made any mention of him at all, and there had been plenty of opportunity to mock Dean over his lack of home run's in the bedroom lately. Even Sam had been giving him odd looks before their split. Waitresses barely getting a glance as he'd order, potential conquests ignored in the bars. Sam would mention someone checking him out and Dean would make an excuse, letting the chance for some action go.

It was really starting to piss him off, how he would check the color of people's eyes and hair, find them wanting, and would suddenly not have any interest in them.

At the rate he was going, he wouldn't be getting laid in a while.

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Time had passed quickly from the morning he'd woken up in that motel room. Using the only resources he'd had available, he'd managed to get some money from the few galleons he'd had in his pouch around his neck. Hermione would've been proud of his resourcefulness. He'd always been adaptable.

Moving from one state to another, he made more quick cash by taking odd jobs where he could find them. Eventually he'd made enough to buy an old used car. He had no idea what model it was, as he'd never really needed to know such things, but he liked the shape and color of it. It was a dark blue, and it was all his.

With the new mode of transportation, he was able to travel even more than he had before, moving from place to place quickly. He never stayed long, just long enough to sate his curiosity about a place. During his travels, the idea to look up Harry Evans hit him, and wouldn't leave until he'd done so. He began looking through any leads he could find, but there wasn't any person that he could find that matched his build and age. Not unless he was a forty-two year old with a wife and three kids, weighing in at three hundred and two pounds.

It was frustrating, and only brought more unanswered questions to mind. So far the only thing he knew about his situation was thus; he'd died and gone to some odd purgatory where he was given a choice, he'd chosen to move on, he'd been taken to another world, the people in that world apparently weren't supposed to be there either, the supernatural still existed in that world, he'd woken up again in possibly _another_ new world, and Harry Evans did not exist anywhere that he could find.

He'd even tried using magic to find him, but it didn't work at all. The location spell he'd attempted ended up not showing anything, which only happened if there was no one it could find. If his doppelganger had been dead, the spell would've indicated such, and if he himself _was _Harry Evans, the spell would've shown that as well. So if Harry Evans didn't even exist, then had he really taken anyone's place? Perhaps the memories that Dean had received were just put there by whatever magic had brought Harry there. Maybe it was a security measure, to make sure that _someone_ would know Harry, even if those memories were false.

Sometimes Harry wondered if this was his punishment for not choosing correctly. Perhaps it had all been a test of the worth of his soul, and just maybe, he'd chosen wrong. Why else show him the kind of life he could've had, then simply take it from him. Now he was here, all alone in this world that was so much like his, yet not. He'd tried returning to England, tried looking for Hogwarts and the platform at the train station. There wasn't anything to find, though. Magic such as his didn't exist in this different world Harry found himself in.

Instead, he'd found a different kind of magic. During his travels he'd stumbled across the supernatural of this new world, he'd found a man fighting a woman. Apparently the woman was a witch, but she didn't have a wand or any types of potions. Instead, she'd used a book, and read aloud her spells to combat the man.

Harry hadn't needed to watch the scene long to know she was up to terrible deeds, so he'd gone and helped the man.

The man had introduced himself afterwards, as Rufus.

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He was leaving after his latest hunt, driving down the dark road in the dead of night, rain coming down in soft waves, the wind dancing through it. Def Leppard's, "Too Late For Love", blaring through the Impala's speakers. Things had been relatively quiet lately, Bobby decided it was his job to keep him updated with Sam, telling him how he was doing. Dean didn't bother saying anything during those times, just listened and changed the subject when the man was done.

Castiel still popped in on him and kept him up to speed on the hunt for God, he didn't have the heart to keep telling the angel how useless it was. It wouldn't be fair to take away the angel's last hope. He recognized an act of desperation when he saw one, and it was clear that Castiel didn't have anymore ideas on what he could do to help.

Dean hit the fast forward on the tape deck, and promptly slammed on the brakes when two men suddenly rolled out into the middle of the road through the tall trees of the forest. He stared in shock as the smaller figure of what looked to be a man lifted his arms high above his head, the gleaming light of a long knife in his hands caught the gaze of the full moon. The man, no _beast_, below the smaller man snarled and threw the smaller man off of his body.

The tiny body went flying across the road, rolling onto the wet earth. Dean climbed out to help what he could only assume was a hunter, pulled his gun out of his pocket and shot a few salt rounds into the creature. Unfortunately, all of his guns with silver bullets were in the trunk of the Impala, so really, he was only pissing off the werewolf. The werewolf went back a bit from the hits of the bullets, but turned immediately after and roared at Dean. The creature charged at him, and Dean was readying himself to leap out of the way, when another body flew at the werewolf! Dean gaped at the tiny figure, who'd leapt onto the beast's imposing figure and stabbed the werewolf in the back of its neck.

The werewolf let out an agonized howl of pain as it dropped to the ground, carrying the little hunter with it. The hunter swiftly cut the werewolf's throat, ending its suffering quickly. The only sound left was the sound of quiet rain and heavy panting. Dean stared hard through the rain, trying to make out more of the person's features. Unfortunately, it'd have to wait until he could get the person somewhere else, as the rain was making it impossible to make out anything.

"Hey! You alright?!" He called through the sound of the water, that was picking up in strength.

The figure nodded, and Dean figured it was time to get going.

"Come on! I'll give 'ya a ride to the next town!" Dean didn't bother waiting for a reply and turned back to the Impala.

Climbing in, he reached into the back and pulled out a couple of towels, wiping himself off. His poor baby was gonna get water all over her nice leather. He sighed to himself and watched the hunter approach the car. Even passing by the lights of the Impala, Dean still couldn't make anything out. The door opened and the hunter slid into the car. Dean tossed the other towel at- well at the person, as he still couldn't figure out if it was a male or female.

"Thank you." A soft lilting English accent greeted Dean's ears, making him freeze in the act of shifting the Impala into drive.

"You're welcome." He grunted, and drove away.

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Harry wasn't sure if he should be pissed at Rufus for sending him on the hunt for the werewolf or not. On the one hand, he'd been itching for a hunt, on the other, he'd lost his car. The damn werewolf had screwed it all up when it decided to slam into his side of the car, effectively causing him to drive right into a tree. From there it had been a game of deadly hide and seek, Harry sometimes hiding from and other times seeking out the wolf.

Finally, everything had come to a head when he'd gotten fed up and tackled the beast. Of course, his strange luck had caused him to end up running into a man. A man who apparently wasn't surprised by the werewolf and instead, had actually _helped_ him kill the wolf. Harry didn't usually end up hitching rides from strangers, but considering he was in the middle of nowhere, he'd decided not to make a fuss and got into the car.

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They managed to find a little town after an hour and a half of driving. Dean got a room, and all but dragged the other person inside. He still wasn't sure what to make of the situation, and he certainly wasn't about to let someone who'd ganked a werewolf out of his sight. At least not until he was sure of the person.

"Here, dry yourself off." Dean pulled a towel from the bathroom and tossed it to the other.

He dried himself off and finally turned to check out the person he'd brought with him.

With the towel in the way, he couldn't make out the person's face, but he did make out a few wavy locks of black hair from beneath the towel. Dean could finally tell that it was a man, albeit a small one, dressed in a black leather jacket and a pair of dark jeans. Tight jeans. He tore his eyes away and cleared his throat once he realized he was staring at the legs encased in those jeans.

"So, what's your name?" Dean dabbed at his soaked leather jacket that he held in his hands with the towel, while he waited for an answer.

"Harry." The man stopped rubbing his hair and peeked out from behind it with one of his eyes.

Dean froze and glanced up at... Harry? His eyes widened when he saw the green eye. Soon there were two green eyes staring at him in equal shock, Harry's hands slowly lowered the towel.

"Dean?" Harry whispered in what sounded like awe to Dean, but he wasn't sure.

Hearing his name did snap him out of the stand still he was in though, as he whipped his gun out and pointed it steadily at Harry's forehead.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" Harry took a small step back and held up his hands, palms out, in a placating manner.

"Did that douchebag of an angel send you?!" Dean's stony expression watched Harry's every reaction, searching for one sign of deception on his part.

"Angel? I- what?" Harry's confused face looked far too genuine to Dean to be any sort of act, but he didn't lower his weapon just yet.

"Cut the act! You just suddenly appear out of nowhere during the time that Zachariah was pulling a mind fuck on Sam and me? Tell me why he placed you there! What's your role in

all of this?!" Dean barked out harshly.

"Look, I don't know any Zachariah. I do have a theory on why I was placed with you, though. I think the magic that-" Harry's eyes pleaded for Dean to believe him, but Dean was feeling stubborn.

"See, that's what's really got me wonderin'. Why'd the douche employ a demon's bitch to carry out his dirty work? Huh? Angels can't stand demons, so I doubt he was jumping for joy at the prospect." Dean's eyes narrowed and his finger itched to pull the trigger and end the witch's life.

"I don't- Demon's bitch? I don't know what you're talking about! I'm not working with any angels and I sure as hell am _not_ some demon's _bitch_!" Harry's eyes finally lit up with anger at the accusations flying from Dean's mouth.

He couldn't understand why the man was saying all of these things! Harry didn't know any damn angels, and he definitely didn't know any demons. Rufus was still teaching him, and so far he'd only learned a little bit about demons. What he did know, though, was that it was a huge insult to him to be referred to as a demon's _bitch_. He certainly didn't know about angels being real, either.

"Don't lie to- You know what? It really doesn't matter, cause I'm not about to let you walk out of here alive, witch!" Dean's finger began compressing on the trigger, when a flutter of wings sounded just as he fired.

His arm holding the gun jerked up at an angle, completely missing the little witch he was aiming at.

"Stop!" Dean's head swiveled to the angel standing next to him.

"Castiel?! What the hell man?" Dean looked at the shot he'd ended up firing into the upper corner of the room's ceiling.

"This man is to be protected, not slain."

"What the...?" Both men turned their eyes towards Harry, who dropped the towel from his nerveless fingers.

The fingers shook slightly, the shot had startled him, as he truly hadn't expected Dean to actually try to shoot him. If he was being honest with himself, he was extremely hurt by what the man had tried to do. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised though. The only thing that had saved him was this man, only Harry didn't think it was really a man. Men didn't usually have wings.

"Are you-You're an angel, aren't you?" Harry wide green eyes traced over the huge white wings gracing the male's back in wonder.

"How the hell'd he know that Cas?" Dean whispered to Castiel, all the while not tearing his eyes away from the man he'd thought to be an enemy.

"He can see my wings. It is not unusual for his kind, many were able to see our true forms when we were in his world." Castiel answered lowly to Dean.

"His world? What the hell is going on Cas? Why'd he suddenly just show up here, during the whole memory wipe stunt of Zachariah's?" Dean's eyebrows furrowed into confusion, as he finally turned to watch Castiel.

"I do not know, though I suspect magic to be involved, as none of the angels have mentioned him. Harry Potter, how have you come to be here, in this alternate world?" Castiel gazed at Harry, his face slightly puzzled.

"I... I think magic from that weird limbo place brought me here." Harry relaxed a bit, seeing the angel was only curious about his presence, rather than hostile over it.

"Limbo place?" Castiel's brows furrowed the tiniest bit, but otherwise his expression stayed blank.

Harry explained his theory of the magic from the blindingly white train station taking him to another world. He spoke of the confusion he'd felt upon waking in the flat he'd shared with Dean Smith, his figuring out that he was in the future, in an alternate world, and all the other things he suspected. The two males listened without interrupting until he finished speaking.

Harry finally went and slumped onto one of the beds. He hated having to explain about himself. He'd had to do a bit of that with Rufus, but he obviously hadn't told the man about his magic and being from another world. Harry wasn't sure, but he had a feeling that Rufus had some suspicions about Harry anyhow. The man was far too clever not to.

"I believe you are correct in your suspicions Harry. If an angel truly did bring you here, there likely would have been some whisper of it amongst the garrison. I can not feel your presence even now, whilst you sit before me."

"Then... how did you know to help me?" Harry frowned up at Castiel, who was still standing.

"I was coming to speak to Dean. I noticed you with him and what was happening. I can not _feel_ your magic, but I _can_ see it. I suspect you are masking your magic?"

"Um, I don't think I am. I mean, I've never tried to before."

"Hm, perhaps it is an unconscious desire on your part. Just because I can not sense you, does not mean I do not know who you are, Harry James Potter. Many of my kind were curious about you, even before your birth. We have not graced your world with our presence for a very long time, but some are still assigned to watch over that world. The ones who stood sentinel over your world spoke highly of you. You gave yourself so that others may live."

"Gave himself?" The pair looked over to Dean, slightly startled.

They'd almost forgotten about his presence.

"Harry gave his life in order to defeat a dark wizard in his world. It is believed this wizard wishes to kill many in that world that is not born of magic, as he was."

"I did what I had to. I'm not anything special. I just- I did what others couldn't, or wouldn't, to survive. Please, do you know if it worked? Is Voldemort dead?" Harry asked desperately.

He'd wondered so long over the fate of his friends and loved ones. Were they alive, or had his decision been selfish?

"I do not know. I have been cut off from heaven, so I am unable to ask the angels that watch over your world." Castiel told Harry somberly.

"Oh." Harry's body dropped in disappointment.

"You couldn't have been the only one that had the power to gank him, right?" Dean's voice suddenly broke through the heavy silence.

"I was the one prophesized to defeat him, actually. Voldemort's soul pieces were destroyed, though. Ron and Hermione knew that with my death, he would be mortal again. My only hope is that they were alive to tell others this." Harry frowned and gazed down at his hands.

"See, I doubt your friends would've just let you run off to sacrifice yourself and not do anything after that."

Harry peeked up shyly at Dean, who was sitting in a chair at the small round table, and gave him a slight smile as thanks. Dean just gave a slight nod, then looked over at Castiel.

"So, wait. When I suddenly came into that fake reality Zachariah made up, Dean said my name was Harry Evans, was that just false memories talking? There wasn't really any Harry Evens, right? I certainly couldn't find any sign of one existing in this world." Harry broke the silence when he remembered a very pressing question he had, pop up.

"Whatever magic brought you here must have put those memories into Dean, for there is no Harry Evans here. There never was." Castiel answered, looking to Harry.

"So, some weird hoodoo put those memories of Harry into my head. Not Zachariah?" Dean leaned onto his knees with his elbows in interest, as he stared up at Castiel.

"Yes, it was likely the only way the magic could have seamlessly integrated Harry into this world at that particular point in time. I can only imagine the kind of disruptions Harry's arrival might have caused at any other time. Dean, you must stick close to Harry. The angels do not know of him, yet. It is only a matter of time before the angels and demons learn of him. Someone of Harry's power will be considered an invaluable player, for either side." Castiel told Dean seriously.

"I'm not _that_ powerful." Harry muttered, while blushing down into his lap.

"You are. To deny such a thing would be foolish on your part. From a young age you have faced a wizard many years older than yourself and managed to survive those encounters, despite your lack in magical knowledge and experience. While some of that may have been 'luck', as you humans call it, it was also a show of the power you have. I must go, I have been here too long."

"Yeah, how's the hunt for God going, anyways?" Dean, who was looking down at his hands for a moment, asked.

His head shot up when he heard the fluttering of feathers.

"Goodbye to you too." Dean snorted, then looked over at Harry.

"So uh, about before-" Dean started.

"It's fine. You thought I was the enemy, I get it." Harry looked up and gave Dean a strained smile.

"I almost shot you, it's not fine. Look, I may have thought you were working with Zachariah then, but I know now that you aren't. So, sorry about the trying-to-shoot-you-thing, alright?" Dean's eyes skittered about the room as he apologized, and Harry almost laughed at how uncomfortable the man obviously was about doing it.

He was also touched by it. Harry could tell that Dean didn't often do such a thing.

"Yeah, alright. So what now?" Harry's left brow rose when Dean smirked at him.

"Now, we rest up for the night. In the morning we find ourselves a hunt, and you tell me about what you've been doing these last few weeks. It's obvious you've been hunting, so you're gonna show me what you've learned."

"Really now? I think I can do that." Harry gave a slight smile of his own, that Dean thought held something back, like Harry knew something he didn't.

Maybe it wasn't a good idea to challenge Harry. Dean had a feeling he was being tricked somehow.

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Wow, people were totally harsh towards Dean in that last chapter. You guys didn't really think he was going to abandon Sam and stay in that fake world, did you? The guy did go to hell for his little brother. I think it's established that Dean puts Sam before himself. Anyhow, I've reunited the two, so everyone can stop freaking out. Jeez. Let me know what you thought of this latest chapter, and thanks for all of the great support you've shown for this story so far.

-Angelwarrior1


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